Chapter 13: Unsteady Footing

The silence hung thick between them, only broken by the soft rustling of leaves and the steady beat of Angel’s heart thudding loudly in her ears. She forced out a laugh, too loud, too brittle.

“I’m just… good at drawing,” she said awkwardly, reaching out for the sketchpad that still sat in Alaric’s hand.

But he didn’t hand it back. He held it just beyond her reach, his gaze shifting between her face and the drawing with quiet intensity. The dimple in his cheek deepened as he smirked, but there was a glint in his crimson eyes that made Angel’s skin prickle, like he wasn’t just looking at her, but through her.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he said teasingly. “But this one…”

He glanced back down at the page, trailing a finger along the edge of the unfinished sketch. Despite the lightness in his voice, there was something heavier beneath it, something that made Angel feel like she was standing on the edge of a steep cliff.

“It’s too perfect,” Alaric continued softly, his voice dipping. “Are you sure you didn’t have some kind of… supernatural inspiration?”

Angel swallowed hard. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he was seriously accusing her of something. His expression was unreadable, still smiling, but his eyes carried weight.

The sketchpad was still out of reach.

He was testing her.

Or maybe... waiting.

She tried to play it off, desperately clinging to the remains of her composure. “It’s just a coincidence!” she blurted out. “I tried to draw a pretty scenery but got caught, of your beauty—”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze.

Her eyes widened.

Her hand flew up to slap her lips shut, but it was far too late. She had said it. Your beauty. The words echoed around her mind like a cruel chorus.

Her cheeks turned scarlet. Heat flooded her face.

Mortified, she dared a glance at Alaric.

But he didn’t look angry.

In fact, he looked amused. Dangerously amused.

His lips twitched upward into a slow smirk. “Caught by my beauty, huh?”

Angel wanted to melt into the bench and disappear forever.

He took a step forward, just one, but it was enough to feel the air shift. His presence grew heavier, colder, as if the space between them was suddenly filled with shadows and quiet.

“You know,” he said, voice low and velvet-smooth, “most people would say ‘It’s just a coincidence’ and leave it at that. But you…”

He leaned in, just slightly. Close enough for Angel to feel the chill that followed him like a mist.

“You make things very interesting.”

The way he said it, it wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t even a threat. It was curiosity wrapped in silk and shadow, and that somehow made it worse.

Her heart was going to leap out of her chest.

And then, before she could think it through, Angel lunged forward and snatched the sketchpad from his hands.

“R-really, haha, good for them!” she stammered, her voice too high and her laugh too forced.

Alaric blinked, caught off guard just enough for her to turn on her heel and bolt.

She didn’t wait for his response.

Didn’t want to see what that unreadable expression would turn into.

She ran.

---

The garden disappeared behind her as she sprinted through the winding paths of the academy, barely dodging a group of second-year werewolves lounging on the steps. Alaric’s faint chuckle echoed behind her like a phantom, quiet, amused, and unbothered.

She didn’t dare look back.

Her lungs burned by the time she reached the dormitory courtyard. She ducked behind one of the ivy-covered arches and collapsed onto a stone bench, clutching the sketchpad to her chest like it might protect her from the world.

Her heart refused to calm down.

Every breath felt like a struggle between embarrassment and relief.

What the hell was that? she thought, eyes wide. What did I just do?

She stared down at the sketchpad. The page had been smudged a little. But the image was still there, Alaric’s half-drawn face, his eyes staring back at her like he knew.

---

Ding—Ding—Ding—

The bell rang, slicing through her thoughts like a knife. Angel jolted upright. Class.

Right. She couldn’t afford to fall behind.

She straightened her uniform, tucked the sketchpad deep into her bag, and walked toward the classroom halls with practiced calm. Every step helped push the lingering tension away, at least, outwardly.

The corridor was already filling with students. Witches adjusted their cloaks. Werewolves yawned and stretched like sleepy lions. A fae girl floated past with shimmering wings, trailing sparkles in her wake.

Angel kept her head down and gripped her wand just a little tighter.

She checked her schedule.Magical Theory & Symbolcraft – Room 4-A.A quieter class. Perfect.

Maybe today could still be salvaged.

But just as she reached for the classroom door, she felt it.

A presence. Familiar.

She glanced to her left. Lioren was standing beside her.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled faintly, like he’d been waiting. His expression was calm, but there was something unreadable behind his eyes, something sharp.

“You’re starting to make interesting impressions here, Angel,” he said casually.

Angel blinked. Her mind scrambled to recover.

She gave a practiced smile. “I’m nothing special. Just a normal witch.”

Lioren tilted his head. His long lashes dipped as he studied her with quiet intensity, less suspicion, more… curiosity. Like he was decoding a puzzle.

“Normal witches,” he said, “don’t usually get the vampire prince’s attention.”

Angel’s heart skipped. She tried not to show her surprise, but her body stiffened slightly.

Vampire prince?

Lioren saw it. Of course he did. His smirk deepened, barely perceptible, and he leaned in just enough for only her to hear.

“Don’t worry. I’m not accusing you of anything,” he said smoothly. “Just… observing. You carry yourself like someone walking a tightrope.”

Behind them, the classroom door creaked open. Students began filing in.

Lioren gave her one last look.

“Be careful not to fall.”

Then he turned and stepped inside, disappearing among the sea of students.

Angel stood there for a moment longer, her grip on her wand tightening.

She swallowed hard. And stepped inside.

—To be Continued—